


That Damned Elusive Weasley

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Post-War, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-06
Updated: 2009-01-06
Packaged: 2018-10-27 15:33:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10811862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Draco doesn’t take no for an answer and Ron doesn’t take well to having a second shadow.





	That Damned Elusive Weasley

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
**That Damned Elusive Weasley**

 

  
After working in every specialty within the department, Ron Weasley realised he didn’t have one. There was nothing he excelled at enough to specialise in and the only jobs available for Aurors with no specialty were desk jobs.

  
Ron was not a man who sat behind a desk for very long.

  
After a few months of not settling into any of the teams he had been prepared to throw in the towel and marched up to Harry’s office to tell him that he was considering another line of work, whatever that might be. While waiting for Harry to pull his head out of the fireplace, Ron had cast his eyes over a bunch of case notes that were spread all over his desk.

  
When Harry finished his briefing and sat down to listen to Ron’s troubles, the despondency had vanished and was replaced with intrigue. Harry had been looking through the notes of an abandoned case before signing the front page and consigning it to the unsolved mysteries vaults. Ron had scanned most of the pages and was now flipping through a Quick Quotes written testimony and comparing it to a witness statement that had been written with one of the Wheezes perfect punctuation quills.

  
“How often do you use these for confessions, Harry?” Ron frowned as he waved the paper before his face.

  
“I don’t,” Harry said with a frown, “but I don’t have a problem with them being used. Are they faulty?”

  
“Not faulty, but they don’t last forever. Remember the ones that corrected your spelling, when the charm began to fade they looked to be writing as normal but they were really telling some wild Luna-like story and signing my name as Roonil Wazlib?”

  
“Yeah, but all that can really go wrong with the punctuation spell is the odd dropped comma here and there.”

  
Ron looked at Harry, a dark expression on his face, and handed him the witness statement he was holding.

  
“Read that out loud.”

  
Harry took the piece of paper and frowned before adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose and then cleared his throat.

  
“Okay, witness statement from Daisy Funnel on September the f-”

  
“This bit.” Ron pointed, impatiently.

  
“Alibi, impossible that man could be a co-conspirator.”

  
“So, the woman’s saying she’s giving the suspect a solid alibi and declaring it impossible for him to have had any involvement in the crime, right?” Ron said before taking Harry’s quill and scribbling something onto a scrap of parchment.

  
“Yeah, it’s pretty clear,” Harry nodded.

  
“All right then, read this.”

  
Ron handed Harry the piece of parchment he’d been writing on.

  
“Alibi impossible, that man could be a co-conspirator.”

  
Harry’s eyes bulged and he jumped up from his desk. Ron smiled and shrugged.

  
“Maybe you should get somebody to speak to the witness to clarify what she said before closing the case.” 

  
That had given Ron a new position as an Auror. He did have a specialty after all. Ron seemed to come up with gold when he was under most pressure, thinking on his feet, and looking at a problem in a way that those closest to it couldn’t solve. 

  
His new calling explained why a familiar face was waiting for him in reception as he passed through on his way home. 

  
“Weasley,” Draco drawled, nodding in such a way that allowed him to look down his pointed nose at the man he held in such distain.

  
“Ferret,” Ron replied, side stepping the smaller wizard and continuing on his way.

  
Draco grabbed Ron’s elbow as he passed by and held him back.

  
“I’m not here for fun, or to see how comically you spend your newly acquired money,” Draco said before crinkling his eyebrows and looking down Ron’s body at his trousers and then his shoes. “Gone from dressing like an impoverished clown to dressing like a court jester haven’t you? Either way Weasley, you look like you dressed in the dark.”

  
“At least I dress myself,” Ron said with a derisive snort. “Is mummy dressing you like daddy so she doesn’t miss him so much while he avoids big blokes who like long blonde hair in prison?”

  
Draco released his hold on Ron’s arm with something of a shove and his lips tightened and eyes narrowed.

  
“I’m here to solicit you in a professional capacity,” Draco hissed. “I heard that you are the only Auror in the department to take the time to look for possible mistakes in investigations. God help us all if you’re our only hope for fair play.”

  
“Well, if I’m such a shambles then you don’t need my services.” Ron straightened his robes and took a step backwards in preparation to turn and leave. “Talk to the front desk and they’ll give you a number. One of our trainees will see you when they can be arsed.”

  
Draco lunged at Ron and grabbed him around both his mildly defined biceps. 

  
“You know my father didn’t kill anyone! You know he was in fear of his life, of our lives, and you know that there was no investigation prior to his imprisonment.”

  
“I know he aided and abetted Voldemort, sat by and watched murder and torture in his own house, and if I cast my mind back I seem to remember him imprisoning me in his cellar against my will. Oh yes, I’d love to help clear the despicable wanker’s name!” Ron growled down into Draco’s face.

  
“I’m not asking you to clear his name,” Draco said, struggling to keep his tone low and level. “He can rot in Azkaban for all I care; it’s his assets I’m talking about. Our property was seized as well as everything Voldemort and his followers looted and stored in our home.”

  
Ron laughed and threw Draco’s arms off. His mirth faded and he gave a sigh and a shake of the head.

  
“Daddy can rot, but _please_ give us back our cutlery!” Ron said in a mocking tone.

  
“Our property wasn’t looted or stolen by anybody but the Aurors and we want it back!” Draco snapped. “Our vault at Gringotts has been locked so we can’t access any of our money.”

  
“And how is that my problem?” Ron huffed. “You need to be talking to a Goblin.”

  
“I thought I was,” Draco said with a spiteful twist to the corner of his mouth, “and the ugly little things won’t allow us to access our own money until it’s declared ours and not stolen money. You Aurors are the ones who do that and you are ignoring us.”

  
“Well, we’re so tied up with all that pesky murder and kidnapping and tracking down war criminals, we don’t really have time to get you your pocket money back.”

  
“Oh, drop the poor little rich boy tosh!” Draco snapped. “My mother is a lady, she did nothing wrong, and I don’t think I need to remind you that she helped your friend Potter.”

  
“Out of the goodness of her heart,” Ron said with a fake nod of agreement. “Of course, let me help her get to her husband’s blood money.”

  
Ron finally walked away from Draco and took wide strides all the way outside to the street. He never thought he’d see the day when a Malfoy would come to him for help and was convinced it was some kind of set up. He jogged down the steps and threw back his head, allowing a gust of wind to blow through his hair and send his robes billowing behind him.

  
“So justice is selective, is it?” Draco panted from behind him as he caught up with the redhead.

  
Ron let out a growl of frustration and looked to the cloud-strewn sky. He turned, and the blustery wind swirled between them, causing their robes to flap against their bodies. 

  
“Oh fuck off, Malfoy!”

  
“You are the only Auror who can overturn decisions and I need the decision to take all our money and possessions away from us overturned so I have to deal with you. Don’t think I want to.”

  
“Ask Harry,” Ron yelled. “He has more authority than me and he falls for sob stories and guilt trips.”

  
“I’m not asking Potter for any favours,” Draco said with a scowl.

  
“Well, you’re buggered then, aren’t you?” Ron said with a ‘screw you’ grin.

  
“I’m never buggered,” Draco said, pushing back his shoulders and sticking out his chin, “though I don’t doubt you bend over for Potter at the click of his fingers.”

  
Ron blinked and began to frown before realising what had just been insinuated and he grabbed the front of Draco’s fluttering robes and pulled him forward, their chests bumping against each other, to snarl down into his face.

  
“Watch your mouth and piss off home to your mother.”

  
“I did nothing wrong. Aurors stole my family’s wealth, that’s called corruption,” Draco said, rising up onto his toes to push his face into Ron’s.

  
“You did nothing wrong? You have a Dark Mark; that’s guilt by association in my book!”

  
“Fortunately, Weasley, the law has its own book and _you_ didn’t write it.”

  
Ron gave Draco a hard shake and the wind blew their hair across their faces, Ron’s long enough to brush the top of his nose and Draco’s catching on his eyelashes. 

  
“You stood there and watched your Auntie Bellatrix torture Hermione,” Ron was seething as he spoke. “Not capture, not imprison, not pretend to hurt her for information and secretly help us fight Voldemort, you let her get tortured for real and for ages. Don’t you dare talk to me about innocent victims and being unfairly judged, not after you tormented her through school and then watched her suffer!”

  
Ron shoved him away before he turned back into the wind.

  
“What would I have been able to do?” Draco yelled as he staggered backwards and then marched after Ron and jumped before him. “If I’d tried to stop it Granger would still have been tortured, I might have been too, my parents might have been killed. Voldemort was going to kill my mother if I didn’t become a Death Eater, if I didn’t do what he wanted. If it was your mother’s life at risk wouldn’t you have kept your mouth shut?”

  
Ron shouldered past Draco and, yet again, the smaller man grabbed at his arm and tried to pull him back.

  
“Get off!” Ron growled as he swung his arm at Draco.

  
“Not until you listen, not until you agree to give my mother justice.”

  
Draco tried to grab Ron’s outstretched arm once again but Ron was drawing his wand with his free hand and pointing it at him.

  
“Back off!”

  
Draco jumped away from Ron as if he’d sent a jolt of electricity through his body. He held up both hands and backed off. The wind swirled around them, whipping their robes around both their bodies tightly, and they held their stand-off for an intense moment. The sky darkened above them like a rapidly forming bruise on the low clouds, the scent in the air told them there was a storm coming.

  
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Draco told Ron. “You will see me and you will hear what I have to say.”

  
“I have important things to do tomorrow,” Ron said, still holding Draco at wand point.

  
Draco’s eyes widened as if his words were a challenge, a gauntlet being thrown down. “The day after then.” 

  
“I’ll be busy then too.” Ron’s lip curled and his face twisted with anger.

  
“I will come to see you every day until you help me,” Draco said as he grabbed at his billowing robes and pulled them around himself, tightly.

  
Draco turned and walked away.

  
“Go ahead,” Ron called after him. “My door’s always open; it makes it easier to slam in the face of scumbags like you!”

  
________________________________________

  
Draco arrived at Ron’s office first thing in the morning and stood before his secretary, a haughty look on his face as he stared down at her.

  
“I’m here to see Weasley; he’s expecting me.”

  
The secretary looked affronted and tapped her appointment book with her finger.

  
“I don’t have an appointment pencilled in for today, sir, and _Auror_ Weasley is a very busy man.”

  
“If you picked up your pencil and wrote my name down then I would have an appointment, wouldn’t I?” Draco sneered.

  
The secretary looked up at him and her piercing gaze skewered Draco in a way that let him know he wouldn’t be getting his way that day.

  
“I’m afraid my pencil is broken,” she said as she reached for the yellow pencil that sat on her desk and snapped it between her fingers.

  
Draco smiled, insincerely, and turned to cross the room. He swept his robes out behind him and sat down on one of the chairs with a graceful movement.

  
“I’ll wait here then,” Draco said as he picked a piece of fluff from the knee of his trousers and flicked it away. “Maybe _Auror_ Weasley will have a cancellation.”

  
The secretary looked down at her appointment book and then closed it, briskly, before plastering her most dazzling smile onto her face and gliding round her desk like a gracious hostess. She stood before Draco and beamed.

  
“I see from my appointment book that Auror Weasley won’t be in the office today, but you’re more than welcome to wait. Would you like a tea or a coffee? You really should have something to sustain you until the end of the working day; it’s a long eight hours.”

  
Draco’s pointed face twisted and he swore under his breath as he pushed himself back up to his feet and glared at the smiling woman before him.

  
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he said, as if it were a threat. “Buy some more pencils!”

  
________________________________________

  
Ron was walking to the canteen with Harry, laughing about some cock-up within the department that Harry was having a hard time trying to fix, when a chair was pushed out before him.

  
Ron and Harry stopped and stared from the vacant chair to the person whose foot had pushed it out. Ron’s face was annoyed yet resigned but Harry’s was angry.

  
“What are you doing here, Malfoy? We’ve cleaned the department up, you know. Your bribes aren’t any good here.”

  
“Actually, Potter, I’m here for my daily snub from Weasley,” Draco drawled, knowing that the bespectacled wizard hadn’t been told about his quest to annoy Ron into doing what he wanted. “Take a seat, I’ve got a pot of tea and a whole sugar bowl,” Draco addressed Ron, still with that superior air of his, but the sharp edges appeared to have been dulled by familiarity. “I know how you like to take your hot beverages to the brink of diabetic coma before you consume them so I thought I’d save you the trouble.”

  
“Sod off,” Ron muttered before shoving the chair back under Draco’s table and moving off without a second look.

  
“What do you want?” Harry demanded as he stood at Draco’s table.

  
“Mind your own business, Potter; I’m wooing Weasley, not you.”

  
Harry thumped both palms flat on the table and glared at Draco.

  
“Whatever it is you think you’re doing, it stops now.”

  
Draco sneered as he lifted his cup to his lips.

  
“Jealous?”

  
“Get out of here and pester someone else.” Harry pushed away from the table and set off after Ron.

  
Draco watched him go and tried to work out exactly what was really getting to Harry. Was it that somebody else was interested in his ‘boyfriend’ or was it that Potter was a control freak, furious that one of his friends had been consorting with one of his enemies without the golden boy’s permission?

  
Draco drank his tea and watched the two Aurors as they sat on the other side of the canteen; Potter clearly grilling Weasley for information.

  
________________________________________

  
Ron had his hood up as he ran up the steps and into the Auror building, a bag from Wheezes gripped tightly in his hand, and the rain lashing against him and slithering off the water repelling charm like clear ribbons.

  
“I know that’s you, Weasley,” Draco’s voice was louder than usual, in order to be heard over the stair rods of hammering rain.

  
Ron kept moving towards the huge revolving doors at the top of the steps. He felt his hood being pulled back just as he dived into the narrowing space in the revolving doors as it closed between himself and Draco.

  
“I’d recognise your lolloping walk anywhere!” Draco smirked as he stepped into the space behind and followed the revolution after his prey.

  
“Sorry, I’ve got work to do,” Ron said as he waved over his shoulder and shook off his dripping cloak to drape it over his arm.

  
Draco was about to retort as he stepped out and into the foyer but the door was sealed on all sides and still moving him around. Ron glanced over his shoulder and was wearing a smirk of his own now. Draco’s eyes were wide in astonishment as the door moved around to the street and spat him out onto it.

  
Draco’s face flashed with anger for a moment before he looked at Ron’s grinning face and gave a single nod and a smile.

  
“Impressive,” he shouted through the still rotating doors.

  
Ron lifted the bag from Wheezes and jiggled it before turning and going on his way. He didn’t know quite why he felt more satisfaction at Draco being impressed with his actions rather than furious at him for eluding him yet again but he liked the approval.

  
After all, if anyone knew how to be an underhanded, sneaky bastard it was Malfoy and there was nothing quite like getting a compliment from the best.

  
________________________________________

  
Ron knocked on the door of St Mungo’s massage therapy room and waited, groaning as he rolled his shoulders back and tried to flex the crick out of his neck.

  
The door opened and Draco stood before him, looking shocked for a moment before grinning, broadly.

  
“Well, well, well!” 

  
“Oh, shit,” Ron hissed, shoulders dropping and twinge of pain causing him to wince. “You’re actually stalking me, aren’t you?”

  
“You’re the one who’s come to me, Weasley!” Draco pointed out, clearly filled with mirth at the situation.

  
“See you?” Ron snorted. “There’s no way you’re a masseuse.”

  
Draco looked momentarily offended before lifting his chin and displaying a haughty dignity as he ushered Ron into the room.

  
“I’ve rubbed away the aches of many a man, I’ll have you know.” 

  
As Ron stepped inside he looked around to see if there was another Healer or masseuse who could see him, but they were alone. He felt Draco’s fingers curling around the collar of his filthy robes.

  
“What happened to you anyway? You look a mess.” Draco sniffed as he pulled the robes down and carried them across the room to hang them up, holding them far away from his body and his pristine shirt and trousers.

  
“Get me someone else,” Ron said as he turned around to face him and folded his arms across his chest.

  
Immediately, his face contorted in discomfort and he let his arms fall to his sides again.

  
“Back, isn’t it?” Draco said, tilting his head to one side and taking in Ron’s posture.

  
Ron lowered his head and sent a piercing glare across the room at him.

  
“I’m not discussing this with you.”

  
Draco unbuttoned the cuffs of his crisp white shirt and rolled up both sleeves to the elbow.

  
“You’d better tell me what happened,” Draco said before waving towards the padded table beside them.

  
“You’d better fetch a colleague,” Ron said, darkly, “because I am not doing this with you.”

  
Draco moved towards Ron with a surprising pace that the taller man wasn’t prepared for and clasped his hands to the round shoulders. Ron drew in a sharp breath instantly and dropped, sideways, onto the padded table.

  
“Fucking git!” the redhead snarled.

 

“Shoulders, back and...” Draco slid his hands up and to either side of his neck before digging his fingertips into the back of the freckled skin and feeling the tensed muscles, “...and you’ve pulled something in your neck. What on earth were you doing today, Weasley?”

  
“My job,” Ron answered, resentfully.

  
“Take off the woollen thing,” Draco said with a disapproving glance down at the hand knitted jumper that was soaked in greenish brown sludge.

  
Ron threw a hard stare at Draco before the impatient wizard sighed and looked to the ceiling.

  
“I’m not touching you while you’re covered in that vile whatever it is.”

  
Ron twisted his mouth into a sarcastic smile.

  
“If I’d known that was the way to repel you I’d have showered in it daily.”

  
“Off,” Draco ordered.

  
Ron lifted both arms and bent them behind his head to grab the neck of the jumper, before failing to stifle a yelp. He forced his eyes closed and pulled the jumper off. Draco frowned at the bruises on Ron’s torso.

  
“Why didn’t you get those healed?”

  
“The Healer said you’d...the masseuse would do it before they sorted out my neck.” Ron was clearly uncomfortable with this arrangement but he really did want to feel better.

  
Draco drew his wand and flicked it at each darkened area of skin, lifting the shadows of the bruises before ordering Ron to lie on his stomach so he could heal his back.

  
Ron had to take a moment to position and relax his shoulders before he could lie as comfortably as was possible on the table and rest his head on his forearms.

  
He felt Draco magically pulling the bruises to the surface of the skin and then removing them all together with a flick of the wrist before the wand was put away and a smooth hand was placed upon his back.

  
Ron tensed up again. The sore muscles in his neck and shoulders protested and caused him to flinch at the sharp pain. Draco moved his hand lightly up Ron’s back and towards the base of his neck.

  
“Relax, Weasley, I know what I’m doing.”

  
“And I know what you’re doing too,” Ron snapped, “and it won’t make a difference.”

  
“No talking,” Draco said with a smile. “I’m going to rub some tiger balm into your skin and then give you massage to ease your muscle spasms.”

  
Ron’s lips were pressed tightly together, his face red with anger, but he didn’t say a word.

  
“You can talk if you tell me what happened,” Draco said, nonchalantly, as he pushed both hands flat up Ron’s back.

  
Ron gave a moan in reaction to the first pressure in his massage and closed his eyes.

  
“Cold case, I reopened it and found the culprit. Aurors arrested the bloke. Whe-ah-ahhhh!” Ron growled through his gritted teeth and then glared back at Draco.

  
“It’ll feel better very soon, I promise. Be a big brave boy for me won’t you?”

  
“Fuck you!” Ron spat before trying to push himself up to get off the table.

  
His neck and the muscles across his shoulders clenched and refused to release again, causing him to fall flat on his face and cry out. Draco made a scornful sound and climbed up onto the table, straddling Ron on either side of his body with his bent knees, and began kneading the muscles behind Ron’s shoulders with his thumbs.

  
“Behave yourself and let me work. Carry on with what you were saying.”

  
“Confidential information, y’know?” Ron grunted.

  
“Did I ask for names or to know what happened to you?” Draco threw back in retort.

  
Ron drew in a deep breath and let it out before feeling one of his muscles relaxing and the discomfort floating away from him.

  
“Mmmmm. Well, um, Aurors made the arrest. I went to the family of the victim to tell them the case had been solved and the only person still living was a senile old man, the father, and he was living in filth. Gone right off his rocker.”

  
“You got attacked by an old man?” Draco snorted, derisively.

  
“No,” Ron said, defensive and then embarrassed. “I got attacked by his ceiling. It fell on us. The walls were rotted almost right through and I closed the door too hard and...kinda knocked his house down.”

  
Draco began shaking with withheld laughter. Ron hid his face by burying it into his forearms and after a short while the masseuse composed himself and continued.

  
“Was the old man okay?”

  
“Yeah,” Ron said, almost annoyed that the old coot didn’t have a scratch on him, “I shielded him rather than myself. I’m a prat like that.”

  
“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Draco said before working on the painful crick in Ron’s neck. “You wouldn’t catch a Slytherin doing that.”

  
“I’ve caught them doing pretty much everything else,” Ron smirked.

  
Draco actually laughed.

  
“You’re sharper than you look.”

  
“And how do I look?” Ron said, a tone of inevitability in his words, as if expecting to be insulted.

  
“Much better between my legs.”

  
Ron’s eyes widened and he gaped at Draco. At the exact same moment Draco’s words had stopped ringing in the air between them, the door burst open and a plump witch in Healer robes gasped.

  
“Mr Malfoy! What are you doing on top of that man?”

  
“I’m giving him a massage; he’s a patient,” Draco explained, bold as brass with a shrug thrown in.

  
“As are you!” the Healer said, swelling with fury. 

  
Ron’s eyes were almost pushed right out of his skull on hearing this and he rolled over and pushed Draco off him.

  
“You’re a patient? You told me you were a masseuse!”

  
“No I didn’t,” Draco said before turning to the Healer and holding up both hands, “Madam, I did not tell this man I was a masseuse.” Draco looked back at Ron and smirked. “I told you I knew how to give a massage.” 

  
“You bloody perv!” Ron exclaimed.

  
Draco rolled his sleeves back down and bowed to the Healer.

  
“I will leave you to attend to your patient, Madam, and Weasley, I’ll see you soon.”

  
________________________________________

  
Draco was running out of places to corner Ron.

  
He wasn’t able to enter the Ministry any more, that one-eared twin brother had taken to testing prototypes on him when he saw him lurking outside the shop, and Potter was always intercepting him on the streets around the house they shared.

  
Ron hadn’t returned to the Healer and all his cases and missions were top secret, so Draco had nowhere to begin in his pursuit of justice.

  
There was only one thing he could think of, come Saturday afternoon, and it made him embarrassed to the point of annoyance to have to be seen in such a place.

  
“One please,” he said as he slid a Galleon over to the wizard sitting in the cooped metal turnstile.

  
“Home or away end?”

  
“Home,” Draco said, rolling his eyes.

  
“One for the home team, anywhere on the left has seats.” The wizard waved lazily before calling for the next person to come forward.

  
Draco pushed his way through the rusty turnstile, flakes of paint breaking away and onto his pristine cloak, and called back to the man.

  
“Where do the poor unfortunates who’ve supported them all their life sit?”

  
The man laughed.

  
“They stand, right at the top, cheap area. You can go up with your ticket though. You paid for the premium stand.”

  
“Oh, wonderful; I’ve overpaid for a Chudley Cannons match,” Draco groaned as he set off for the only place he could hope to find Ron Weasley.

  
The crowd were chanting and singing a song that had the words ‘boom boom Cannons go kaboom’ and made Draco want to point out to them that their Cannons were more likely to misfire than kaboom. He managed to hold his tongue, with some considerable amount of self restraint, and walked up flight after flight of steps to the top of the stand.

  
The standing room area was even more raucous and the diehard supporters were actually quite intimidating. Lots of heavy drinking, heavily built, and heavily bearded men roaring like that oaf Hagrid catching sight of a slug being mistreated. Every face was either sunburnt or tanned and aged by all their seasons in the summer, following their team.

  
Draco found himself hoping that Ron wouldn’t be there, not with that crowd, because he had a certain pigeonhole for the weasel and this wasn’t where his mind wanted to compartmentalise him.

  
Ron was loud and common, unsophisticated and coarse, but he wasn’t an ape. 

  
One of the widest backs Draco had ever seen blocked his path, and his view of the world in general, and he found himself cringing in revulsion as he squeezed past him. His face must have been a picture as he felt the moisture from the man’s sweaty body soaking into his shirt. As soon as he extricated himself from the broad backed man he saw the tall red haired man hollering at the Cannons’ keeper.

  
“Don’t watch them you prat, watch the fucking Quaffle!”

  
“I’m sure you bellowing that like a uncouth moron will make all the difference,” Draco said, trying to sound mildly bored despite having to shout at the top of his lungs to be heard.

  
Ron’s head snapped around to glare at Draco.

  
“Oh, you are fucking joking!”

  
“I must be; I’m at the Chudley Cannons end of the ground during a Tornadoes game.”

  
Ron’s eyes suddenly seemed to spark with malicious mischief.

  
“What was that?” he bellowed for the surrounding crowd to hear. “You say you’re a Tornadoes fan?”

  
Draco instantly paled as the enormous hominoid crowd stopped grunting and fist shaking to stare at him.

  
“They’re going to kill me, aren’t they?” Draco said, voice high to the point of cracking.

  
“Yes, yes they are.” Ron smiled before turning back to the game. “Come on you useless bastards, kill ‘em!”

  
“Don’t encourage them!” Draco yelped, before realising Ron was cheering on his team.

  
Immediately, the terrified blonde wizard turned to face the pitch and clapped, furiously.

  
“Come on Cannons! Kaboom, kaboom!” he shouted in desperation.

  
Ron doubled up with laugher and shook his head in disbelief.

  
“I’m not giving in, y’know?” Ron said, voice raised.

  
“I will get what I want, Weasley,” Draco shouted back with confidence.

  
“Wanna bet?” Ron raised an eyebrow.

  
“I guarantee you.”

  
“No,” Ron said, turning towards Draco and lowering his head to his ear. “Do you want to make a bet?”

  
Draco leaned back to look at Ron’s cocky expression and then gave a single nod.

  
“Okay.”

  
“I’ll take on your case...if the Cannons win.” Ron gave a lopsided grin, looking very pleased with himself.

  
“Oh, that’s not fair!” Draco protested.

  
“Take it or leave it.” Ron shrugged before looking back to the game.

  
Draco looked back as the Cannons keeper threw himself the wrong way and let the Tornadoes score.

  
“Concentrate, you bloody oaf!” Draco yelled, cheering the team in orange on with complete sincerity.

.

________________________________________

  
Ron was visiting Hogsmeade village and had just said goodbye to Hagrid and Neville as they made their way back to the castle when a fresh bottle of Butterbeer was set on the bar before him. 

  
“There I was staking out Honeydukes, knowing how you wet yourself over sweet things, and it was only when I saw Longbottom and the giant that I realised where you must be.” 

  
Ron sighed and picked up the bottle, took a swig and set it down. 

  
“You know what? I’m not even surprised.” 

  
Draco grinned at this comment. 

  
“You’ll miss me once I get what I want and leave you be.” 

  
“You’re such an arrogant arsehole,” Ron said, almost impressed at the perseverance on display from the Slytherin. 

  
“It takes one to know one, Weasley.” Draco drank from his own bottle and met Rosmerta’s eyes as she looked at the two of them and seemed to throw a silent warning. 

  
“We’re not going to get drunk and fight, Rosmerta, don’t fret,” Ron said with a smile. “He’ll leave when I do.” 

  
“I’ll leave when I get what I want,” Draco corrected. 

  
“Oh, renting a room here, are you?” Ron said, quick-wittedly. 

  
“This banter is beginning to wear thin. I’d really rather skip it and have you give in.” 

  
“Yeah, I got that impression at St Mungo’s,” Ron said with a cautious sideways glance, “that you wanted to have me, I have to say I wasn’t expecting that.” 

  
Draco gave a carefree, one shouldered shrug. 

  
“How is your neck, anyway?” 

  
Ron turned his head towards him and gave a half smile. 

  
“It’s fine. You actually did know what you were doing, didn’t you?” 

  
“I never do anything if I don’t know I can do it. It’s why I’m pursuing you, to get you to do what I want, because I know you will eventually do it.” 

  
Ron drank deeply from his bottle and they sat in silence at the bar for a few minutes. Eventually Ron frowned and looked back at Draco. 

  
“You’re a patient? What for?” 

  
“Don’t pretend you don’t know. You’re covered in them.” 

  
Ron furrowed his brow and looked down at himself. 

  
“Scars, you dolt!” Draco huffed. “Magical scars take years of massage to keep them supple and painless. If you don’t attend to them they feel tight, itchy, sore...” Draco saw that Ron’s face was incomprehensive. “You don’t have any trouble with yours?” 

  
Ron shook his head. 

  
“The splinching one was a bit iffy for a while but I thought that was because Hermione didn’t heal it properly.” 

  
“But you’re covered, wrist to throat, in magical scarring. I saw it when I massaged you.” 

  
“They didn’t hurt once Madam Pomfrey treated them, almost faded completely too, they only show up because the rest of the skin on my arms is freckled.” 

  
Draco looked down at Ron’s forearm as he rolled up his sleeve. He found himself moving his hand forward and lightly tracing the trail of one of the scars from his wrist to his elbow with his fingertip. 

  
“It feels so soft and fleshy.” 

  
Ron’s ears pinked beneath his hair. 

  
“Well it’s raised a bit; I wouldn’t say fleshy.” 

  
“I didn’t mean they were horrid,” Draco said, still looking closely at them and feeling the contours of the lattice like patterns beneath the fine amber hairs. 

  
“So what scars do you have to cause you so much trouble?” Ron asked as he pushed his sleeve back down. 

  
Draco unbuttoned his shirt half way down and pulled it open; displaying an ugly red slash of a scar that Ron instantly looked away from. 

  
“The _Sectumsempra_ curse,” Ron said, glancing back to see if Draco was buttoning his shirt again. 

  
“It’s the Potter curse, as far as I’m concerned,” Draco said, coolly, before closing his shirt and buttoning it up, while Ron turned in his seat to face him properly. 

  
“He didn’t know what it would do, especially not that it would do that.” 

  
“So it’s acceptable to use curses on people if you don’t know what they do? Marvellous loop-holes your friend is given and such a shame the rest of us have to live by the law.” 

  
“Excuse me?” Ron snapped. “You forget that you were throwing an unforgivable curse at him at the time, Mr Live-by-the-law!” 

  
“You remember everything I’ve ever done wrong, don’t you? Not a detail of the things I did right.” 

  
“Things?” Ron gasped and then laughed in Draco’s face. “You think you did multiple good things! You’re unbelievable.” 

  
“I am, yes.” Draco picked up his bottle and clumsily drank it dry, visibly angry, before banging it down on the bar. “I didn’t kill Dumbledore despite my mother’s life being threatened. I didn’t give Potter up to the Death Eaters when they asked me to identify him. I...” 

  
“Things you did right out of cowardice don’t count.” 

  
“And you’ve never done anything wrong?” Draco said, accusingly. 

  
“I cock up all the time,” Ron admitted, brazenly, “but I don’t get in people’s faces calling myself superior.” 

  
“I haven’t come close to getting in your face yet, Weasley.” Draco’s voice lowered and reverberated between them like thunder. 

  
Ron slid off his bar stool, grabbed his cloak, and drained the last of his Butterbeer. 

  
“Thanks for the drink, Malfoy. Sorry about your scar.” 

  
“I could get better ointments and treatments for it if I had access to my own vault,” he called after Ron, who was already on his way to the door. 

  
“Bye Rosmerta,” Ron called, without looking back. 

  
________________________________________

  
Draco watched his mother leave to visit her cousin in Paris and then cracked open the twenty three year old bottle Firewhisky his father had kept to toast the day their family came to power, either by one of them becoming Minister for Magic or leading the Death Eaters as the new yet profitable Dark Lord.

  
Delusions of grandeur but an inability to actually work for anything he wanted - that was Lucius. He couldn’t help but miss his father, however, but only briefly. There were too many cold dismissals and sneers about his failure which outweighed the times Draco was made to believe he could be a great man one day. 

  
In the end, all he was good for was getting to Potter, and then getting to Dumbledore. He’d needed Snape to protect him, and a vow forced upon him by his mother. Now he couldn’t even keep her in the style to which she had become accustomed. 

  
He didn’t feel like much of a man. 

  
He poured an overly generous amount of Firewhisky into a glass and necked it in one go, just as there was a knock on the front door. 

  
Getting out of his wing-backed chair with a grunt, he rubbed at his scar as it tightened painfully, before drawing his wand and moving towards the door with caution. 

  
They would occasionally fall victim to hateful revenge attacks from people Lucius had used his power and influence against, so it was never wise to receive an unexpected caller at Malfoy Manor. 

  
He flicked his wand across the door, casting a protection charm that would at least buy him time to shield himself properly should an attack come immediately, and then reached for the handle. He turned it quickly and threw the door wide. 

  
Ron Weasley was standing on the doorstep, looking startled by the abruptness of Draco’s actions. In reaction to having a wand pointed at him, he had lifted his own wand in self defence. 

  
“Oh, it’s you!” Draco said with a relieved sigh that stank of whisky. 

  
“It’s me, and I’ll have whatever you’re having,” Ron said before lowering his wand and slipping it into the holder on his belt. “Oh and this is for you.” 

  
He held out a roll of parchment with a red wax seal on it. 

  
“What is it?” Draco asked, staring at the item without making a move to take it. 

  
“It’s what you wanted,” Ron said, motioning with it to encourage Draco to accept it once again. “Just produce it at Gringotts and you and your mother can access your vaults and all your property again. If your father ever gets out of Azkaban he won’t be able to, though,” Ron smirked. “He’ll have to ask you or your mum for pocket money.” 

  
Draco laughed and took the parchment immediately. 

  
“Fantastic! Thank you Wea...Ron, thank you.” 

  
“And now you can leave me in peace,” Ron said with a nod of the head. “Enjoy your gold, Malfoy.” 

  
Ron turned to leave but Draco lunged forward and grabbed him by the arm. 

  
“Won’t you come in for a drink? Father has some expensive vintages that I’m sure he’d loathe to know you enjoyed.” 

  
Ron chuckled at the suggestion but shook his head. 

  
“Let’s not pretend we can enjoy each other’s company, eh?” 

  
“Do you need to enjoy the company of a drinking companion?” Draco frowned. 

  
“Now you have your money back,” Ron said, taking a step back and into the darkness, “I’m sure you can afford lots of more suitable drinking companions. Goodnight Malfoy.” 

  
________________________________________

  
Ron had just called goodbye to Harry as he left for an evening function at the Ministry, a benefit for the war orphans fund that needed a hero to charm donations out of wealthy admirers, and Ron kicked off his shoes and put his feet up in front of the fire.

  
Now that Malfoy had got his money Harry felt less territorial over his best friend and their home. Just as Ron slouched down low in the squidgey brown armchair he favoured he heard a knock at the door. 

  
Ron gave a tut. 

  
“Berk forgot his keys again,” he said with a sigh. He'd never understood why Harry had been so insistent on a Muggle lock rather than a magical charm. “All right, coming!” he shouted, as the knocking became more impatient. 

  
Ron grabbed the keys from the small table in the hallway and reached to open the door, dangling them from the end of his finger. 

  
“You know, if you’re gonna insist we have a non magical lock you need to at least try to remember t-” Ron froze as he opened the door and saw Draco standing before him, a little drunker and not even wearing his robes, just a suit with no tie. 

  
“Weasley,” he said with a curt nod. 

  
“What the hell?” Ron exclaimed. “You got what you wanted, Malfoy. Why are you still pestering me?” 

  
Draco stepped over the threshold and looked Ron in the eye with intensity. 

  
“Because that wasn’t what I wanted,” he whispered, grabbing Ron by the shoulders and pushing himself up onto his toes. 

  
Draco forced his lips against Ron’s, clumsily, before easing himself into a more satisfying snog. Ron’s eyes were wide open and he made a muffled sound into Draco’s mouth before the perfectly manicured fingers slid into his copper hair and pulled him down and deeper into the kiss. Both mouths opened as Ron’s eyes fell closed. 

  
Draco pushed Ron into the wall and kicked the door closed behind him. He broke the kiss, panting for air, before looking Ron up and down and setting himself the task of removing the shocked wizard’s clothing. 

  
“Look, I know you’re gay and hard up for... _attention_ ,” Ron blurted, “but seriously, I wasn’t looking for anything in return for helping you out.” 

  
“Potter doesn’t have to know,” Draco sneered into Ron’s wet mouth before licking his lips and plunging his tongue inside, tasting the sweet tea he’d been drinking. “I know you like it. I saw the look on your face when you were under me.” 

  
Ron made another muffled sound into Draco’s mouth and his eyebrows crinkled together above the bridge of his nose. 

  
“I wasn’t, I never, you’ve read some signals that weren’t there!” Ron gasped. 

  
Draco had already pushed Ron’s trousers and pants down to his knees and was now yanking his t-shirt over his head. 

  
“Stop taking my clothes off you...you...y-y-oh! OH!” 

  
Ron was rendered speechless by Draco’s hand stroking his cock as he sank down to his knees. His slender fingers curled around the back of Ron’s calf muscles and as soon as Ron’s penis had hardened it was swallowed as far down as Draco could manage. 

  
“Shit!” Ron gasped, back arching away from the wall and shoulders and head pushing hard against it. 

  
Ron seemed to be fighting the urge to thrust into Draco’s mouth but the struggle only lasted a couple of seconds before his large hand gripped the blonde hair at the back of Draco’s head and pushed hard. Ron’s cock slid right down Draco’s throat and the man on his knees struggled to swallow rather than gag. 

  
“Fucking hell!” Ron cried out as he felt Draco’s tongue curling and rubbing itself around the underside of his cock. 

  
Ron pumped his hips, losing all self control, and Draco pulled his head away. 

  
“Nodonstop!” Ron babbled in desperation. 

  
“I’m not,” Draco said as he unfastened his trousers and shook them down until they bunched at his knees, “I want some satisfaction too.” 

  
He pushed his briefs over the curve of his backside and his cock sprang free. It bobbed, brushing against Ron’s, until Draco palmed both erections and curled his fingers around them. 

  
Ron slumped forward and rested his forehead upon Draco’s shoulder, breathing deeply enough to moisten the skin on his pale collarbone, while the smaller man rubbed his hand back and forth. Ron’s desperate thrusts began again. He tried to get some satisfaction from both Draco’s hand and his cock, pressed against his own. He threw back his head once again and bucked away from the wall. 

  
“God, oh God!” Ron panted before gritting his teeth and grunting. 

  
Draco covered Ron’s gaping mouth with his own and began rocking his hips into his hand. His cock rubbed against Ron’s but the redhead was losing all self control and practically bouncing off the wall behind and forward again, like Fang dry-humping a table leg. 

  
Draco pulled back and shoved the frot-crazed man before him into the wall. 

  
“For goodness sake, Weasley,” he said, panting heavily and uncomfortably aroused. “You’re acting like you’ve never done this before!” 

  
Ron gasped for breath and blinked his eyes into focus before shoving Draco off him and doubling over to fist his cock to climax. 

  
“Weasley,” Draco said as he grabbed at Ron’s wrists to pull his hands away. “You’ll hurt yourself, you idiot.” 

  
He pushed Ron’s arms back and over his head, pinning them against the wall, and pressing their chests together. Ron was still thrusting into thin air and as soon as Draco had flattened him against the wall he had no option but to bite his lip and feel the desperate wizard grinding against him. 

  
“Fuck off!” Ron roared and then screwed up his face tightly, furious at himself for still being turned on. “You’ve made a fool of me, now fuck o-” 

  
Draco clamped his mouth over Ron’s again and swallowed his words with a deep kiss. Ron made several muffled noises into his mouth before his whole body shook and went rigid. Then, with three stiff thrusts, Ron came all over Draco. 

  
The redhead slumped, supported only by the body pressed against him and the wall behind, and tried to catch his breath as he cracked his eyes open. 

  
“You can’t feel bad about cheating on Potter,” Draco said as he stared into Ron’s face, freckled arms still pinned to the wall above his head, “I saw enough of him while I was looking for you and he’s still screwing your sister. Did he tell you that?” 

  
Ron swallowed and looked at Draco in bewilderment. 

  
“What the fuck are you... Harry? Cheating?” 

  
Draco moved in to kiss Ron on the lips, a smile forming on his own. 

  
“So naive and trusting,” Draco said before Ron turned his head to one side to avoid the kiss and he planted three wet kisses onto Ron’s neck instead, “and loyal to such a warped little swine. I bet he gets a real kick out of climbing off the sister to mount the brother.” 

  
“You sick fucking bastard!” Ron hissed, pulling his arms free and shoving Draco away again. “Harry loves my sister, and just because you’re a poof doesn’t mean he is.” 

  
“Oh come on,” Draco sneered, “I’ve seen the way he is with you, how he acted when he saw me on the prowl, and you can’t play the homophobe with me. You just had your cock in my mouth and you loved it!” 

  
“I’m gonna take back that scroll and burn it if you don’t fuck off and leave me alone, Malfoy!” Ron threatened him while scrambling to pull his pants and trousers back up. 

  
Draco’s cock was still hard and aching for attention. He flung himself forward and kissed Ron, firmly, as he wove his fingers through the hair at the back of Ron’s head and held him in place. 

  
“You got me that scroll because you want me.” Draco whispered as he broke the kiss. “I want you; you sexy, insubordinate, idiot savant!” 

  
“You fucking git! Who are you calling an idiot?” Ron’s hackles were up and he shoved Draco across the hall and slammed him into the opposite wall. 

  
“You hide your genius under your idiocy.” Draco laughed before licking his lips and looking at Ron’s. “Right now I really want to hide my cock in your filthy mouth.” 

  
Ron’s face blazed with indignation before another emotion pushed it away and took him over completely. 

  
“Not putting that thing in my mouth,” he said, almost distracted. “You’re a...you’re...” Ron watched Draco lick his lips once again and then dove forward and crushed a kiss against the smaller man’s mouth. 

  
Draco purred with delight and clawed at Ron’s bare back with his fingers as teeth clashed, lips swelled, and tongues fought for dominance over the kiss. They rolled along the wall until they fell through the open door and onto the rug that covered the floor of the living room. 

  
Draco broke the kiss and tore off his clothes while Ron wiped his mouth, looking at his hand to see if he’d split his lip in the tumble, before sitting up and frowning at Draco. 

  
“But why me? Why would you want me? We hate each other.” 

  
“Hate doesn’t get in the way of lust, you fool,” Draco said, pulling a small tube of something out of his trouser pocket before shaking them off at his feet. He kicked them away, across the room. 

  
“What’s that?” Ron frowned. 

  
“If you don’t know then Potter’s more of a selfish bastard than I thought,” Draco said before grabbing Ron by the hips and rolling him over onto his stomach. 

  
Ron grunted and then pushed himself up on his elbows to scowl over his shoulder at Draco. 

  
“Slagging off Harry isn’t foreplay y’kno-oh-OH!” Ron’s eyes bulged and his mouth hung open as Draco slid slick fingers inside him. “Whatcha doin’?” 

  
“Stop playing the innocent little virgin, Weasley, it’s really getting old.” Draco huffed as he moved his fingers inside Ron’s tight arsehole. 

  
Then the movement stopped and Ron caught his breath and regained his composure to look back at Draco once again. 

  
“Why’d you stop?” 

  
Draco looked at him and then blinked. Not long after he withdrew his fingers from inside Ron. He looked shocked. 

  
“Is something wrong back there?” Ron asked, becoming concerned. “Did you feel something that’s not supposed to be there?” 

  
He tried to sit up but Draco was still resting some of his weight on the back of his thighs so he couldn’t. 

  
“For fuck’s sake, say something!” Ron demanded. 

  
“You,” Draco began before shaking his head and starting again. “Potter’s never done this to you before has he?” 

  
“I keep saying to you to lay off Harry,” Ron said with a huff. “Of course he hasn’t, he’s going out with my sister...a _girl_!” 

  
“And you’ve never done this either, have you?” 

  
Ron flushed in the face and turned away, pausing to pick at a bobble of fluff on the rug, before shrugging. 

  
“I’ve never needed to.” 

  
Draco leaned over Ron and rubbed his hand up his curved spine and curled his fingers around his shoulder. 

  
“You don’t need to, but I think you want to.” Draco’s voice was a whisper into the side of Ron’s face and the redhead closed his eyes and pressed his lips together so hard that they almost went white. “Do you want to, Ron?” 

  
Ron drew in a deep breath through his long nose and then nodded, eyes still closed. 

  
“Look at me,” Draco ordered. “Do you want me to fuck you?” 

  
Ron opened his eyes and threw Draco a hard look, with the same ferocity he’d have during a trade of insults, and nodded. 

  
“Yes.” 

  
Draco smirked. 

  
“Say it.” 

  
“I want you to fuck me.” 

  
Draco’s eyes lit up and he turned his head to pull at Ron’s earlobe with his teeth before laughing a smug laugh. 

  
“It’s even better knowing that Potter never has.” 

  
“Shut up and fuck me!” Ron growled. 

  
Ron felt Draco slide his hand back down his body then grip his hips, firmly, with both hands and lift him up a little way. 

  
“Bend your knees under you, I want you to present to me.” 

  
Ron moved into position and soon felt Draco moving his slick fingers inside him. He couldn’t understand why he wanted to feel this, what it was about being filled and stretched in that area and pushing back into every movement he liked, but at the same time it was indescribable how uncomfortable it was. 

  
Draco encouraged Ron to take some slow, deep breaths before he pushed the head of his penis through the tight ring of muscle between Ron’s buttocks. Ron’s breathing faltered and he whimpered slightly. Draco didn’t move, he simply rubbed one hand up and down the long pale back and reached under Ron with the other to slide it down his stomach. 

  
Ron’s breaths were coming fast, and no matter how much Draco tried to coax him into slowing down, it made no difference. Draco moved the hand from Ron’s back across his buttock and gripped him around the hip, firmly. 

  
“I’m going to ease in a little more now. Take a deep breath in,” Draco said, voice unusually soothing, and Ron drew in a shaky breath, “and now blow it all out.” Ron began to blow just as Draco pushed further inside him. “All the way out until you’re empty. That’s it.” 

  
Ron’s shoulders rippled as he struggled to support his weight on his hands and knees. He made a wet sound, like a gurgled groan, at the back of his throat and Draco fought his desires and remained still for a moment. 

  
“Deep breaths again, Weasley, I need to go further.” 

  
“Ugh, wait!” Ron strained, wrestling with his instincts to clench tight. 

  
“Seriously, Ron,” Draco whimpered as he spoke, “I have to, you’re so tight ‘round me!” 

  
Ron braced himself and forced some deep breaths in and out, still unable to slow them down, however, and then nodded. 

  
“Go on.” 

  
Holding Ron’s hip and pulling it back into him with one hand and pressing up against Ron’s flat, sweaty stomach with the other, Draco pushed in with a grunt. 

  
“Ohmyfuck!” Ron cried out and balled his hands into fists. 

  
He felt so full, as if he had a desperate need to crawl away and make a mad dash to the toilet, but he couldn’t articulate the feeling to Draco. 

  
“ _Nghhhayeavetashit_!” 

  
Draco’s hand left Ron’s stomach and moved down to his cock, he fondled it a little and then moved down to the balls, squeezing and tugging softly before thrusting himself right into Ron’s body. 

  
“You’re fine, y’re fine...so fucking tight...too fucking tight but I won’t...I won’t hurt you.” Draco said between moans and jerks he couldn’t control. 

  
“This doesn’t feel right,” Ron said, panting, “there’s too much...no room!” 

  
Draco laid himself flat over Ron’s curved back, wrapped both arms around him, tightly, and hugged him while grinding himself into Ron at a different angle. 

  
“Feel that?” he grunted. 

  
“Oh God!” Ron yelled, head lifting, jaw clenching, and cock and balls suddenly solidifying and if they’d been flicked on with a switch. 

  
“Clench around me, squeeze me, Ron,” Draco said before sinking his teeth into the freckled back, beaded with sweat and hot all over. 

  
They both moaned and Draco rocked his hips back and forth while Ron tried to hold himself up with one arm so he could reach back and attend to his painful hard on with the free hand. Draco grabbed the moving arm about the wrist and planted it down so Ron was back on all fours. 

  
“Don’t touch it!” he growled. 

  
Ron’s breaths were noisy and ragged, his hair darkened with sweat and his only option was to hump thin air. His rigid cock swung back and forth, heavily, and Ron pounded on the floor in frustration. 

  
“Please, fucking please, Malfoy!” Ron gasped, groaned and growled. 

  
Draco still had a tight hold around Ron’s body and pulled the both of them back so Ron was now sitting on Draco’s lap, cock springing then lolling between the quivering thighs. 

  
Again Ron’s hands tried to find a way towards his aching cock, still in desperate need of attention, but Draco curled his own fingers loosely around the shaft. 

  
“Hands behind both our backs, I’m the only one who gets to touch you!” Draco purred, possessively into Ron’s ear. 

  
Ron let out a moan that was half pleasure and half despair as his head fell back over Draco’s shoulder and his slender body writhed in his lap. Draco made a sound that appeared to signify he was tormenting himself just as much and wanted to come immediately too. Ron tried to regulate his breathing and panted pleas for release on every exhalation. 

  
“Please...Malfoy...please...lemme...touch it... _please_!” 

  
Ron’s hands were still creeping inside his thighs and scrabbling over the top of Draco’s hand. 

  
“Hands behind our backs, now!” Draco ordered. 

  
Ron whined and pulled both long, skinny arms behind them and clasped them behind Draco’s back. 

  
“Now? Please? Please, Malfoy?” Ron tried to rub himself against Draco’s palm but his moments were impaired by sitting on Draco’s cock. 

  
“Say my name,” Draco ordered, voice husky, as he pushed up and into Ron. 

  
“Oh God!” Ron exclaimed, body twisting at the two different sensations he was experiencing. “Draco Malfoy!” 

  
“Just Draco, call me Draco,” he said as he began to thrust faster, deeper and harder, up and into Ron. 

  
“Draco, ugh Draco, fuckpleaseDraco, please, let me touch it. I can’t take it.” 

  
Ron unclasped his hands and was about to reach forward when Draco squeezed his cock all the way up to the top and rubbed his thumb over the head, slowly. 

  
“Hands back where they were or I stop and put a cock ring on you!” 

  
Ron pulled his arms back so sharply he was able to clasp his own forearms. He growled and arched his back away from Draco’s chest before groaning and collapsing back onto him. 

  
Draco thrust once, twice, three times, before sliding his hand back down Ron’s shaft and then squeezing it, rolling his fingers one at a time until his thumb teased the head of the cock once more. 

  
“Don’t stop, please!” Ron begged, head still lolling over Draco’s shoulder, face pointing up to the ceiling but eyes closed. 

  
“Can’t,” Draco gasped as he thrust, “believe,” and again, “you never,” he pumped his fist around Ron’s cock while driving his own deep inside him, “did this,” he felt Ron coming and began to milk the orgasm from him, “ _BEFORE_!” 

  
With every spurt that arched across the room, every contraction of Ron’s arsehole around Draco’s cock, the blonde wizard was forced ever closer to his own climax. 

  
Ron made several babbling noises that could have been words or even sentences, but even he couldn’t have translated them for Draco as the blonde wizard orgasmed inside Ron. 

  
They both cried out before Ron fell forward, bracing himself on his shaking arms just before he smashed his face on the floor, and Draco slid out of him and sprawled on his back. 

  
They were exhausted, breathless, and ever so slightly dazed. Ron had never felt anything like it, the sensation of Draco inside him, and now that it was over he couldn’t help but feel oddly empty. 

  
In an Adam and Eve moment, Ron suddenly realised that he was naked and felt around for something to cover his modesty, in the end grabbing a cushion and pressing it over his groin and he shuffled backwards on his bare bottom. 

  
“Got what you wanted, both times, so you can bugger off now,” Ron said, eyes darting from fireplace to front door as if he expected Harry to return home without warning and demand an immediate explanation. 

  
Ron hadn’t got a clue what he might say in such circumstances. He had no idea what had happened at all. Draco was gathering his clothes from the floor and the hall where he had thrown them off and his white rear end, even whiter than Ron’s, bobbed around before being squished beneath him as he sat back down and looked across at Ron. 

  
It was hard for either of them to play it cool, play it sexy, or even be abusive or throw their typical banter back and forth, not when they were both so naked and awkward. 

  
“Don’t tell anybody I’m limp-wristed, will you?” Draco said, a fragility in his tone that made Ron even more uneasy. 

  
“I won’t say anything as long as you don’t...and I’m not by the way, a woofter, I’m not.” 

  
“Of course, you’re not.” Draco managed to smirk at long last. “If you were, Potter wouldn’t have had to jump your sister.” 

  
“Will you just lay off?” Ron huffed before Draco threw him his clothes. He caught them against his bare chest and hurriedly dressed. “And close the door on your way out.” 

  
“Just so you know,” Draco was still panting heavily as he wobbled to his feet, pulling his clothes back on, “I’m going to keep on following you, and soon enough you’re going to start showing up at _my_ house for this.” 

  
Ron narrowed his eyes at Draco as he took a step through the door. 

  
“You wish, Malfoy.” 

  
Draco straightened his collar and finally looked like his old, cocksure self once again. 

  
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Weasley.” 

  
Ron said nothing, simply watching as Draco turned on his heel and disappeared down the hall, reciting an improvised verse as he went. 

  
“I’ll seek you here. I’ll seek you there. I’ll seek that tight arse anywhere. Are you a poofter or are you a tart? Either way it’s a bloody good start!”


End file.
